Basil of Britain vs The Kronos Conspiracy
by Jacob Butter
Summary: A half-blood of the eldest gods shall reach sixteen against all odds. We've heard this before, but the Titan Lord did not go into war without a backup plan. Now there is no Percy Jackson, no Annabeth Chase, no Luke Castellan. Without the three of the prophecy who is left? Basil and an apathetic child of Hades for starters.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter I: A Flock of Birds Nearly Takes Me Out at the Ball Game

I could start you off wherever I want to, it won't matter much at all, but I think I'd best bring you in on the evening Lysander and I first arrived at the Super Bowl.

Don't ask me who was playing or what the score was. I neither know nor care. I had other matters to attend to, like not falling off a speeding Pegasus.

I suppose a more traditional method would have been to buy a ticket, but my goal there was not to focus on the game, but rather its crowd.

'Stop!' I yelled over the blast of wind in my face. Lysander clearly heard me, as a second later I nearly toppled forwards over his head.

We were hovering over a stadium in Jacksonville, Florida (I believe it was called the Alltel Stadium), kilometres above an active game between the Whosits and the So-and-so's, too high to be spotted, but still very able to hear the non-distinct chants from the roaring crowd below.

This was not going to be easy.

I released my trembling hands from Lysander's neck and fumbled around the side of my belt, clipped on which was my _boéthos_. To most people it looks like a rusted old swiss army knife, but you learn to except that kind of deception when you're a demigod.

I clicked _boéthos_ a few times out of pure instinct and the contraption became a custom telescope made from shiny Celestial Bronze. I felt like Captain Jack Sparrow twisting the end to adjust the lens on the device. Now all it had to do was scan the entire crowd until I found my target. Just a relaxing way to spend the afternoon, really.

How did monsters track us down so easily? I always found that so unfair about them. That and the idea that their souls can constantly regenerate, even if it sometimes takes centuries. Granted, we can go through rebirth too, but it's not quite the same.

Just and I was beginning the ponder questions about our existence and whether there was a finite number souls (not to mention the origin of these), the telescope automatically focused on the… um, right; are they umpires or referees in American Football? Wait, officials! That's it! My telescope focused on the official calling an… an end to the inning? Oh, I give up! He called time for a break! Which meant the crowd was about to begin shifting and I'd have to start all over again.

I never thought I'd say this, but thank Ares for the feather shooting birds.

Speaking of monsters tracking down demigods, that was the very next thing _boéthos_ caught onto. My hand steered itself as a flock of five Ornis Areios swooped down from the sky and headed straight for a group of lads by one of the stadium exits. One of them was holding one of those giant hands with one finger pointing upwards (you know the sort, the ones that never draw any good attention to you) and he slammed it in front of one of the birds, just before the first downpour of arrow-like feathers.

I signalled for Lysander to do a nose dive. The Pegasus obeyed instantly and even knew to turns middair so I could attack the birds head on. The lads had by that point retreated into the stadium, as had the birds, so I timed when Lysander would hit the archway and jumped off just before. _Boéthos_ became a long blade and slashed into a couple of the avian assailants.

The metallic clang came as a surprise to me, but it didn't matter. There was a perfectly good wall in the birds' trajectory for them to crumble to dust on impact.

'And that is how you kill two birds…' I got back on my feet and brandished my weapon 'with one sword!'

Okay, I know that was cheesy, but I can't help myself. I love a good one-liner. Or a bad one.

Clearly, I spoke too soon. I was aware of what these flying beast were and that a sword was not an ideal weapon to use against them. The next forty seconds were like swatting flies, something I was equally bad at. My sword missing every single swoop the birds made while I was repeatedly punctured from all angles. I'd hoped the lads were smart enough to realise I was causing a diversion from them to escape, but my burst of luck had thoroughly ran out.

'Guys, we better help this dude!' suggested one.

'No!' I snapped. 'Get out of here at once!'

'Hey, cool accent!' said the same one. Had I not been squinting I'd have rolled my eyes. Americans said to me so wearily often. I hoped that this one was not the true target. The bird he smashed his snow cone into didn't seem to care and smashed him away all the same.

There were two more in the group: one tall, lanky and light-skinned and the other shorter, broader due to muscle and with darker complexion and afro hair trimmed to perfection. If had to hazard a guess, I'd have gone with lanky man, as something about him just seem more… well, Greek.

Not that I could talk. I'm British.

The name's Basil, by the way. Basil H. Brigginshaw (the 'H' stands for Hamish). Please don't call me Brigginshaw, though. I reminds me too much of the ghastly school Uncle Albert found for me.

Don't get me wrong, I love my Uncle Albert and Aunt Gladys. They'd looked after me like on of their own ever since my parents disappeared. I merely question how much they know about education, given that both of them left after their O Levels. The school in question was Ilford Comprehensive, which by the way no longer exists. Had I not escaped when I did I might have gotten the blame for what those Lastrygonians did to the boiler room. Apparently blowing up schools is demigod's rite of passage. Good thing I was never going to be an Eton boy, then.

'Eaten,' on the other hand, could have described me on multiple situations over the years. Exciting s this tales may be, I decided to start you off with the seemingly mundane birds rescue mission due to whom I was there to rescue from them.

'Play some music!' I shouted in a daze. 'Anything loud and obnoxious! It'll scare them off!'

This is the tactic Heracles had used on the Stymphalian Birds as part of one of his twelve labours. All he'd had was a bell, so if my assumption was correct…

_PEEEEEEEEEEW_

The family sound of an airhorn sent the remaining birds into a fluttering frenzy. As quickly as they had come, the whoosh through the archway, past a confused Lysander and took to the skies. Moral of the story: If your minions are noise sensitive, don't send them to the Super Bowl.

And yes, I had every reason to believe the birds were sent by someone else. And they would be more dangerous foes on the way shortly. I knew I had to suss which lad was the demigod and get him to Camp Half-Blood immediately before –

**Author's Note: I am discontinuing the Nelly Faraday fanfiction. It was a poorly executed, faulty and less inspired project than this one. Basil of Britain is my new focus in the Riordan Universe, so I hope you enjoy it. Let me know your thoughts, please, I'd be delighted to have your feedback. More of this, or Teddy Lupin soon!**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter II: I Wake Up In an Angry Kid's Bedroom

I regained consciousness in a room I didn't recognise. Everything was quiet, which was a welcome change. Normally there would be a bunch of Apollo kids crowding around and chatting away when this happened, but the face that stared down at me startled me even more.

It was Afro Boy, and he was peering over me with a stare that sent a shiver through my entire body. I jolted upwards and nearly fell off the bed it had been propped on. From up close, I could see that he was only about twelve years old, which made sense. Those wiser than me have said it's always the eight grade.

'He's awake!' Afro Boy called towards the door. Moments later my suspicions were confirmed when a second boy with long mullet, slim physique and leather jacket opened the door.

'Hiya, Basil?' he smiled. 'How're you feeling?'

'Better for seeing you, Jeffery!' I replied, much to the indignation of Afro Boy.

'You _know_ each other?!' he exclaimed. Jeffery and I exchanged a look. Not only did we know each other, but he knew why I had come.

'Is it him?' I asked.

'Yes, it's him,' nodded Jeffery.

'It's me _what?_' demanded Afro Boy. 'Jeff, who is this guy?'

'I am one of you,' I responded. 'I assume Jeffrey already filled you in.'

'Nope!' beamed Jeffrey. 'Managed to keep my mouth shut this time.'

'Good. Then we should get going. Where's Lysander?'

'Mrs Buenafuente is tending to him outside.'

'And that's…'

'My mom,' snapped Afro Boy. 'Now, do you want to explain yourselves to me?'

'Actually, it's best if we don't,' I said matter-of-factly. 'You'll only be at greater risk by understanding. We'd better get you off to camp before much else happens.'

Afro Boy grabbed me by the shirt and placated me against the wall.

'Now you listen to me!' he snarled. 'We agreed that there would be no more talk about sending me to military camp!'

'What are you talking about? I only just met you today!'

'He means him and his mom,' explained Jeffrey. 'There was talk that his… aggressive nature needed to be channelled somewhere.'

Afro Boy spun his head around to Jeffrey, looking at him with pure unadulterated malice.

'How do _you_ know that? Has she been blabbing to you too?'

'I had to know. She told me when… when she asked me here.'

Now Afro Boy had released me completely and was staring Jeffrey down like he was his next meal.

'She… sent… you here?'

With every pause he took a step closer to the poor guy, and Jeffrey's face said it all.

'You're a demigod!' I blurted out.

Okay, I know I should have done that, because the moment someone learns they're a demigod they're pretty much set up for a life of constant battles, perils and struggles to stay alive. But, come on! If you'd seen the mortifying stare and experienced the brutal strength of the guy, you'd have done the same too. No monster in their right mind would dare cross him. Not only that, but if Chiron was right about who he was, this was no ordinary demigod. But time would tell us how true that was.

'That's right. You're a demigod. Half mortal, half god. There, I said it.'

Now Afro Boy just looked confused.

'Are you on something?' he asked.

'Yes, a time crunch! It's not safe for you here anymore! They've found you! And if we stay much longer, those birds from today will seem like mosquitoes in comparison to what is to come.'

'Okay, you're totally on something. Maybe you should lie down some more.'

I rolled my eyes and whistled. Moments later, Lysander swooped up next to Afro Boy's bedroom window. The kid nearly fell backwards from the sheer shock of the moment and the Pegasus whinnied is if to say 'Yep. I'm awesome. What of it?'

'Is that horse… flying?'

'Yep,' I replied. 'But that's not it. Jeffrey…'

On cue, or mutual friend began to take off his trousers. Afro Boy really did recoil this time, even before seeing the reason why.

'Dude! What the heck, man? What is wrong with you?'

'Just look…' I sighed.

'_Heck_ no! I'm not staring at anything! You two are _crazy_ if you I'm going to…'

Jeffrey clopped his hooves. Afro Boy had no choice but to respond to the curiosity.

'You're… you're a… what are you?'

'A satyr,' said Jeffrey. 'Basil, you take him from here. I'll catch you guys up.'

No more protests were had. Afro Boy climbed onto the back of Lysander out of morbid curiosity and before long we had taken off into the sky, leaving Jacksonville behind us.

Not long after that, we were blasted from the sky.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter III: Saved by the Power of Science and Taxis

There is no standard procedure for evacuation of a charred Pegasus. The three of us spun around engulfing ourselves in more flames as we went along. I reached in my pocket again, this time to fetch a handful of soil and my stash of emergency seeds.

I chose a couple of ivy seeds and made them grow to their full length, intertwining each other into a sturdy double vine.

Willing one extreme to wrap around Lysander's stomach, I waited until we were level with the tallest buildings to launch the other end like a lasso to one. The subsequent pendulum we formed saw us shoot back into the air, no longer at terminal velocity. That was when I clicked _boéthos_ again and let us fly through the city of Riverview like Spiderman.

I had set our falling course in accordance to the Alafia River, and managed an angled landing that splashed us all, quenching the flames in a puff of smoke.

I later learnt that "Alafia" means "River of Fire." Such irony was _not_ appreciated.

Of course, I yanked Afro Boy out of the water first, but then immediately turned to Lysander's body. It only took a second to truly assess the monumental damage to what was left of him. His formerly white fur had been completely singed off and part of him were exposed to the bone. As he sank, his corpse burst into dust and was gently carried off by the river current.

The sound that erupted from my being was some sort of scream and strain hybrid. I couldn't allow myself to let go at that moment. Not after last time.

Looking back, this may have been a well-intentioned gesture on behalf of someone who saw me with my arms grasping my T-shirt, arched over and shaking violently, but Afro Boy came over to me and delivered the least comforting two words I'd ever heard in my life.

'He's dead.'

Now it was my turn to spin over and eye him down. We could both feel the ground rumbling beneath us as roots shifted about around me. Afro Boy backed away, but tripped on one of them. From the looks of things, even the grass began to sting for him.

'OH, REALLY?!' I bellowed. 'GEE, THANKS! DON'T KNOW WHAT I'D DO WITHOUT YOU TO POINT THINGS OUT! YOU'RE A REGULAR HERCULE POIROT, AREN'T YOU?'

It was one of only two times that year that Afro Boy admitted to been afraid of me.

'N-no1 what I meant was… I'm sorry, I – I don't know why I said that!'

The ground and roots calmed down. I released the grip on my fists.

'Unfortunately, I think I do. If I'm right, it's the reason we were just struck down. The question is, how? That clearly wasn't Zeus' bolt. How did we-?'

In response to this, a cackle was heard in the stormy sky. Both of us looked up to where it had come from just in time to see a humanoid figure emerge from a nearby cumulonimbus, seemingly made out of the cloud itself.

'An _Anemos Thuellas_…' I muttered. 'I should have guessed.'

_Boéthos _became a sword again. The storm spirit cackled from a distance and simply sent another bolt in my direction.

I'm not going to say something outlandish like "I dodged lightning," but I _did _ drop my sword before anything could be conducted through my body. Consequely, I decided to use more dirt and seeds to coat my hands in insulating moss. From that point on, the blasts didn't affect me anymore.

The _anemos thuellas_ turned its attention on the unarmed Afro Boy, launching itself in a blast of wind to the cry of 'Give back what you stole!'

That was when I truly had the creature right where I needed it. I tossed an acorn into the gust, which bounced off Afro Boy's head. He must have known instinctively to plant it after seeing what my powers were.

With one shaking outstretched hand and a good chunk of my remaining energy, I willed the acorn to germinate and expand into, as cliché as it may be to say, a mighty oak. The storm spirit crashed into it without so much as a sound, never to emerge again.

What is the enemy of a creature made out of wind? Photosynthesis.

My knees buckled and I fell onto all fours, hyperventilating. Afro Boy rushed over to me with an expression that implied both 'That was so cool!' and 'Thanks, bro.'

I managed to put one hand up to calm his worries. In truth, this used to happen to me a lot. I would get carried away a couple of years ago when I first got to Camp Half-Blood. I was twelve myself back then, and not over the novelty of my powers. The realisation dawned on me that if my theory was correct about Afro Boy, this phase would be far more dangerous in him than it ever would be in anyone else, let alone me.

As luck would have it (and because the Fates can be cruel beyond belief), when he propped me against the oak I'd just germinated, he just had to enquire about precisely that.

'_How_ did you do that?'

'Chlorokinesis…' I muttered. 'It's one of my demigod powers.'

'So you're a demigod too? Not one of those… whatever Jeffrey was?'

'A satyr? No, I'm a demigod too.'

'Amazing! So I can learn to do that plant growing trick, then?'

'That depends on your divine parentage. I highly doubt we have the same one. In fact, your mother's mortal, isn't she? So, it's impossible anyway,' I deduced.

'Why, who's your mother, then?' he asked while cracking a wider smile.

'Demeter! Goddess of the harvest and nature!' I announced proudly.

Aaaand gone was the smile.

'What?' I demanded.

'We're not going to get along, are we?'

'Why not? Not manly enough for you?'

Okay seriously, I was sick and tired of hearing this from people. When it came to the gods of Olympus. Demeter was overshadowed by literally everyone else! All over the place you'd hear about the might of Zeus! The wrath of Poseidon! The wisdom of Athena! The Trials of Apollo! Demeter's most famous stories were about a Prince who almost cut down a tree and when her arguably more famous daughter became Queen of the Underworld.

Degrading as it was, Afro Boy knew none of that. Clearly he was not versed in Greek Mythology beyond a possible casual viewing of _Clash of the Titans_, so I let the comment wash over me.

'Regardless, I need a second.'

Producing a golden drachma from my wallet, I headed down to the river and splashed about like a four year old on a rainy day until a rainbow was produced.

_Oh Iris, goddess of the Rainbow, please accept my offering._

_Show me Chiron at Camp Half-Blood._

An image formed in the rainbow of a bearded man figure; seemingly middle aged in a neat suit. The image made him momentarily flinch, as happens with all Iris messages.

'Basil! Is something the matter!'

'Yes! Storm spirit blast us down. I've lost Lysander. I have the kid with me,' I explained.

'I have a name, you know,' protested Afro Boy.

'Yes, but you never told me.'

'Well, it's Carlos. Carlos Buenafuente.'

'Fine.' I turned back to Chiron. ' I've got… Carlos Buenafuente with me. We're stuck in Riverview. We were barely in the air for a few seconds.'

'Is the storm still there?'

'Yes.'

'Then we shall get you another means of transportation. Should arrive in a few minutes.'

We sat around for some time, not know what to say to one another. Both of us had our reasons to stay quiet and embrace the awkward ness of our company. I almost wanted something to emerge and try to eat us. Almost.

What _did_ arrive was a speeding taxi that looked like it was woven out of smoke, inside were three screaming old ladies, with tightly shut eyelids except for one of them and also a singular tooth to share around.

'You boys are in luck,' piped one of them. 'We don't normally serve outside of the New York area. You're in for a memorable ride!'


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter IV: My Worst Fear (Of The Month) Comes True

I can't say that much happened during the journey with the sisters Graeae, simply because there barely was any time!

These three served out of control around the country, going from Florida all the way up to new York, in what must have been record time (It wasn't - Apollo had exceeded this speed millennia earlier with the Sun chariot). I'd love to describe at least the sensation of travelling at such a high G-force, but I'm aware that some readers may have just finished a nice meal that they don't particularly want to see again.

Since our fee had already been covered, we got out of the taxi with our only worry being to keep our organs from wrenching. At least Carlos seemed a little better than me, given that he was able to speak much sooner.

'So do we just… cross the archway?' he wondered. 'Hey, I can read that sign! Camp Half-Blood! Normally I have trouble with that.'

'Ancient… Greek…' I mumbled. 'Will explain… later. CHIRON!'

It seemed that our mentor was already waiting nearby for our return, something he frequently did for new arrivals or campers returning from dangerous quests. In our case, both circumstances applied.

Carlos looked at me as Chiron made his way up to us in his wheelchair form.

'Is he also - ?'

'Oh, I'm saving you that surprise for later,' I smiled.

'Come, Carlos,' beckoned Chiron. 'I shall show you to the Big House!'

…

I'll spare you details of Carlos' induction into Camp Half-Blood. Other than Mr D not vaporising him on the spot for his snarky dismissive attitude when introduced to him, nothing extraordinary happened (by our standards). Chiron revealed his centaur form, Carlos glared at me in shock, I laughed my head off.

None of us dared bring up the Great Prophecy, which was the whole reason he got me as an escort in the first place, but Carlos was too done with the day to care about anything else that day. We both parted ways to our cabins, munched on some ambrosia and wait for nightfall to sleep.

His introductory days at camp went about as horribly as they could. His brute strength spared him the traditional head-in-toilet greeting from the Ares children and they subsequently stayed away from him.

In fact, _everyone_ stayed away from him. There was something about him that made everyone feel uncomfortable, making him want to be there even less. One night, I even caught him trying to escape and only just manged to trap and slay the giant scorpion that would have otherwise eaten him.

I did eventually tell Chiron and Mr D the reason I thought he was struggling to fit in, still hoping I was wrong. Mr D, of course, didn't give the slightest toss, but Chiron shook his head and replied 'Let us hope it is not the case.'

But with every passing day, I grew more certain, which is why I began a secret project with a bunch of satyrs and dryads, but I'll talk more about that later.

It had been about two weeks since our unceremonious arrival. My sister, Lavender Morse, came in to summon Cabin Four to dinner, like she always did. By this point most of the others were back and quizzing me on my mission. My only question is what had happened to Jeffrey. The whole time he had not returned from Jacksonville. For a lone satyr, that was thoroughly unusual.

Chiron was singing by the campfire with everyone else in his true form. Carlos had still not been claimed, and was thus still referred to the Hermes cabin and was sat with them.

I was half expecting it when it happened, since a lot of gods claim their children around dinner time. Harris Bogden was in the middle of conducting a choir of Apollo students in his experimental mashup of _Bohemian Rhapsody _and _Dies Irae_. We'd all just gotten our main course and were taking turns sacrificing our best portions to the Olympians. Again, Carlos' disapproving look of confusion made me feel for the poor boy. When he got up, he strolled over like he'd just been forced into time out.

Around a sweltering crescendo, the fire swelled and rose higher than naturally. Carlos was at the front of the queue about to tip part of his plate. The ground around him crackled and black smoke rose above him. He was engulfed in the fumes, which morphed about him into the shape of a skull bearing a sinister helmet above it.

The smoke cleared by dispersing outwards. Several campers screamed. Philippa Montes fainted on the spot. Jeremy Vince gawked without being able to produce a sound.

Meanwhile, Carlos stood there, his piercing eyes momentarily vacant and his entire physique radiating the energy of death.

Sometimes I hate when I'm right about things, because when I am sometimes all Hades breaks loose.


End file.
